Treasure at Rainbow's End
by Arsosah
Summary: A little childhood story.


**Treasure at Rainbow's End**

"What's that?"

The sunny day shows a light blue sky, and he has been out, alone, since the early morning. The voice startles him, and he looks up from the sandbox, from the hole he digs with his bare hands - he remember he had a spade once, but it has been gone a long time. Probably stolen. He knows he won't get a new one.

The question is innocent, it could be about anything. But Johnny has nothing, so first he doesn't think the boy talks to him and is about to look away again, but then he realize, he does. There's no one else here he could be asking. And the boy's gaze has landed on the spot on Johnny's forearm, right between his hand and elbow, where _they_ always grab him.

If he had been tough, he had rolled his eyes, said _It's just a bruise, silly!_ or maybe even used a harsher word than silly, like _idiot_, but he's not tough and it's not just a bruise.

Just a bruise is what you get if you run and fall on hard floor, or wrestles roughly, or play football- and he has done neither. But he knows the rules, _how could he not?, _and he lies, of course.

"Um... nothin'." It comes out quiet, eyes down, sand strained between fingers.

The boy takes a step closer. "Does it hurt?"

"No." But it does. Always. Mostly in his heart. That's strange, cause their fingers and fists can't reach that place. Still, there's the worst pain. A bruise in his chest that never goes away. The ones at his skin fades - sometimes. But the new ones takes the old ones place, so he can't say for sure.

"It looks like it." The boy squeezes his eyes, like he's trying to get a better look.

Johnny just shrugs.

"How did'ya get it?" The boy just won't give up, and Johnny leans his head forward, letting his black bangs cover his eyes, they can show the truth, he's afraid, and lies again.

"I fell."

The boy is young enough to be tricked. He hugs a firetruck of wood, his red hair's a mess, his clothes dirty. They are obviously hand-me-downs, poor-looking, but not as ill-fitting as his own pants an t-shirt. Apparently, they are from the same side of town. And Johnny knows he's dumb even thinking it could be otherwise, why would anyone who doesn't live on this side be in this park? Of course they both are eastsiders. The thought makes him more at ease. He looks up at the boy again, and the boy's eyes are bright when he leans forward, gently touching Johnny's arm with his index finger.

"It almost looks like a rainbow."

Johnny's eyes widens. He looks at the spot, trying to see what the boy sees. He has never seen anything else than nasty, ugly blue. He has always thought bruises are blue and painful and nothing else. But when he looks down now, he can see them. The colors, when the boy points them out, gently touching each one, spelling them out. Black and blue, purple, green, yellow and red. Like a rainbow on his arm.

"I like rainbows," the boy says matter-of-factly when he's done. "Don't you?"

Johnny really doesn't know, he has never thought about it. Sometimes they are just there, in the sky, for a reason unknown to him. They are pretty, he guess.

"Did'ya know there's a treasure where the rainbow ends?" the boy speaks up, and Johnny slowly shakes his head. He has never heard of it.

"It's true," the boy nods. "My brother told me, and he knows _everythin'_."

Johnny doubts that. Nobody knows _everything_. Nobody knows what _they_ do, cause he never tell anyone.

"Have you found one?" Johnny speaks low, he knows he shouldn't pry. It's never good to ask things. Talk to much and you only gets hurt. He hope his words came out too quiet, already regretting them, but the boy heard him.

"Found what?"

Johnny swallows. He's not used to talk to strangers. To anyone. But the boy has caught his interest, and he _is_ small. Johnny bet he's stronger than the kid. So he swallows again, and speaks up. "A treasure."

"No." The younger boy's arm sweeps under his nose, leaving dirt on his right cheek. "Mom never let me look for any." He drops his firetruck on the grass, sits down next to Johnny in the sand and pokes in the hole with a stick. Johnny feels offended - it's _his_ hole, but then the boy smiles and a funny feeling spreads in his stomach. Like he's happy.

"Why not?" Johnny asks, feeling brave all suddenly. His mom never cares about anything. Except her bottles and smokes and him keeping quiet, which is hard. He always thinks he is, but she always tells him different. He's sure she wouldn't mind if he went away to look for a treasure. She wouldn't even notice. Maybe if he brought home gold, they would be nice to him.

Maybe he could try.

The boy shrugs. "I dunno." He looks at him. "What's your name?"

"Johnny."

"I'm Ponyboy," the boy says, and Johnny doesn't flinch at the strange name. He know it's a lie, but he lied first. Twice, he think. It's just fair.

"Wanna play?" Ponyboy says. "Come on!" He tugs at Johnny's arm, drags him out onto the grass and picks up the toy.

Johnny really want to. Really. But he shrugs. He doesn't know what to say. He know he use to say the wrong things. Screw it up. _They_ always tells him that. He looks down, he need to look down cause the boy is smaller than he. It feels strange, he's used to be the shortest, but now he lower his gaze even more and stares at the ground, the grass, the dirt, the holes on his worned out shoes. He tries to say yes, but someone shouts, and he turn his head up and sees a blonde boy, head higher than the boy before him.

"Pony, there you are," the new boy says and then looks at _him_. "Hey!"

"Sodapop, that's Johnny," Pony points.

Johnny blinks, confused, and he wants to ask if they really are named Ponyboy and Sodapop, and maybe it wasn't a lie after all. But he doesn't dare. He can handle the little kid, but not this one. He shoves his hands down in his pockets, blushing, ready to go now when the kid has got another friend to play with. Sure of that he already has forgotten him.

"Come on, we gotta go home," Sodapop says to Pony. "Mom's makin' pancakes." And Johnny turns around cause now he _has_ to go, but he can't go home. _They_ told him to stay away until dark. And it's summer, middle of the day, long, long hours to sunset.

"Where you goin', Johnny?" -and he stops- "You can come too if you like."

He can't believe the word's are true.

"Can I?"

"Sure! Mom always makes _a lots_ of pancakes." Soda has the biggest smile he has ever seen, and he can't help but smile back.

"Soda, Johnny's got like a rainbow on his arm!" Pony says, and Johnny thinks he's so_ innocent_, but Soda frowns when he sees the bruises.

"What happened?"

The lie.

"Nothin'. I just..."

But he didn't _just_. Or maybe he did. He _just_ was in the way. He _just_ got home too early, or too late, and he _just_ was too loud or too quiet, or he _just_ was there when he shouldn't, and he _just was Johnny_. He can't continue, and Soda's eyes turns sad. Like he knows. Johnny's suddenly sure of that this boy do knows everything. But all he can do is stare, cause he can't tell, can't answer the question, can't lie to him. And that's not good. So he bites his lip, hoping for something to happen so he doesn't need to speak about it anymore.

And then someone takes his hand, breaks the moment, and it's the little boy.

"Come on, Johnny!" he tugs. "I'm hungry!"

The grip is different. It's warm, it's not hurting, it feels strange. It leaves no bruise, he will discover later. No rainbow on his hand.

But soon he will realize, he did found a treasure that day. It wasn't gold.

It was something better.

* * *

I don't own The Outsiders.

Beta-readed by Every'Piece'Has'A'Purpose

Please review. Thanks :)


End file.
